


A Lost Granddaughter

by ThatJoser



Series: A Lost Granddaughter [1]
Category: Acquisitions Inc.
Genre: Enclave Panax Anima, Gen, Walnut Dankgrass - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-04-23 15:24:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14335410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatJoser/pseuds/ThatJoser
Summary: The Enclave Panax Anima vanished years ago, its daughters lost. Or, so it seemed.





	1. The Name Mother Gave Me

Roselin Duskbloom. That was the name her mother had told her belonged to her. She never felt it belonged to her but if mother said it, then It must be true. Mother was always right about things. That is, the things she would actually disclose. Roselin started asking questions early on. Questions about everything. Questions mother did not always feel the need to address or even acknowledge.

Mother was tough, strict, cold. It was not until after her death that Roselin learned of the Enclave and mother’s position as an envoy. There were only a few envoys sent out with mother. That’s what she gathered from the crumpled documents that she found in mother’s belongings. A small group that mother herself had chosen and petitioned on behalf of in order to be allowed to travel from the Enclave and establish a line of communication with- that part was worn away by time.

Mother never talked about anyone else from her group, she realized. Or the Enclave. Or her father. All she talked about was the importance of getting home. A home Roselin never knew, or would know, for that matter. It was only a memory in mother’s mind. That’s all. They had spent so many decades searching and searching. Mother would disappear into towns for nights at a time and always come back looking just as cold and stern as ever. She looked after her, Roselin remembered- the many nights teaching her how to find food and make clothing, how to mend wounds and cure illnesses- that was “love”, was it not? A mother’s love? Being taught how to survive?

Roselin looked at the strange symbol that was repeated on the faded documents. It looked like a vertical arrangement of X’s. Maybe someday she’d learn what it meant. Maybe someday, she’d find mother’s home as well. For now, there was some more reading to do. Mother kept a lot of documents.


	2. Fragments

_“                                      … could help us._

_Allies are invaluable but some in the Enclave refuse to see reason. It is because of this that I have chosen to take it upon myself and a few trusted sisters to venture out and make contact with the …_

_… it is my hope that they will be trustworthy and dependable in the war._

_My sisters may forgive me in time but at the present, time is something we do not have_

_… leaving before dawn. Mother watch over us.”_

 

Gaps. Fragments. It was so frustrating! Mother’s letters were only 200 years old, they shouldn’t be so worn and faded, right? Right?! Roselin huffed and pouted. It had been 10 years since her mother passed; in 10 more, Roselin would become an adult, at last. A 100-year-old wood elf with no home and no family. Only a puzzle and broken promises of a home that may not even exist. It could have all just been a story that mother kept telling; a legend, a fae tale. Something to keep them going; to keep their hopes up. A lie.

Looking through the letters and documents, Roselin felt no closer to knowing the truth of her past nor what possible future she could have. She was an orphan now. Mother said that the woods would always be a home when traveling. That nature would provide.

Mother had a lot of faith in those stupid beliefs. Roselin slapped her hand on the stacks of papers and shoved them back into mother’s old courier satchel. She picked up her hunting bow and slung it over her shoulder. Mother was such a pain in the ass about the past! Why did she have to leave her?!

Roselin slumped over and cried again. Just as she had every night since.


	3. This World

_"             as we set down  ..ke camp_

_...sending regular scouts_

_...tell of our progress. Vinya’s daughter is our best runner._

_She usually returns a day or two faster than any of the other scouts or messengers._

 

_Vinya is very proud of her young Aster. Perhaps when this mission is over, I may find time for a daughter of my own."_

 

 Roselin stared at the pile of journals, missives, and maps spread before her. It had been hard at first but as she went further and further back, the distinction between personal and professional documentation became clearer. It seemed as though mother had not always been the cold, closed-off person that Roselin had grown up knowing. Further reading would likely help to shed light on this thought. For now, Roselin needed better carrying bags for her newly-sorted items. Perhaps one bag for each? She wondered. No, she needed at least two for journals. The missives were more delicate and would be better served being stored in a satchel like the ones the messengers wore as they traveled along the roads. The maps, those were in need of something sturdier, something weather-proof. It’s a wonder that any of this survived all this time in the old sacks that mother had carried.

 Perhaps it was mother’s stern will that kept them from degrading too much, Roselin allowed herself to smirk. A snapping sound outside the cave quickly erased that expression, replacing it with the stern focus that mother ingrained in her through her teachings. “Eyes focused, ears open. You have many senses, use them all. Stay aware of your environment at all times. Never let them surprise you.” Whatever made the sound moved to the entrance of the cave, took its last step, and fell dead as Roselin’s arrow hit its mark dead-center of the exposed throat. Roselin had grown to hate the green-skinned creatures that attacked the other races. She didn’t know what they were called. Mother never told her about them and they never encountered them when mother was alive. This one looked young, she thought. It didn’t have as many scars as the ones she had watched leading raiding groups against small human settlements.

 She hated this world. No wonder mother wanted to return to the Enclave. Perhaps there, it was peaceful. Out of the reach of these savage beasts. She pushed the arrow out of the back of the thing’s neck so as not to break the tip and wiped it off. Not even a good bag to take from its corpse, she sighed. Useless.


	4. The Child

_She has not returned to us. I feel for my sister. A daughter lost is unimaginably tragic for our grove. I wish I could comfort my sisters but the mission remains the same. Time is of the essence. A group like ours has never been this far removed from the Enclave nor for this amount of time._

_The forest wind chills me with ill omen. I pray to Mother that it is only weakness of my mind and not some warranted fear._

                Roselin’s footfalls were light as a hare’s as she made her way through the thicket towards this strange town. Its buildings were smaller than most she had seen before; smaller than anything that would comfortably accommodate an elf, she figured. It was just past night and she wished she did not have to resort to scavenging for food from a settlement of.. whatever these things were. Gnomes? Half-lings? The terms from her mother’s notes ran together without proper real-world reference.

 

                “HI!” a small voice startled her. She turned, dagger swinging in a deadly arc but missing any enemy. Instead, the blade swung cleanly and clearly above the head of a small human-looking child. Her eyes were blue and wide but not with surprise or fear from the abrupt reaction; rather, they were curious and friendly. “What’s your name? I’m Jo-ee.” The small child’s language did not register with Roselin but the child held out a hand anyway. In it, a small white flower with slender petals. “Do you like flowers? I like flowers. They’re pretty aren’t they? Your eyes look yellow like the flower center. Do you speak common?” <”or halfling?”> “That’s okay. I have to go to bed, anyway. Bye, lady!” She left the flower in Roselin’s hand and with a smile and curtsey, ran off towards one of the small structures.

 

Roselin looked down at the flower in her hand and furrowed her brow. She tried to parse what had just happened and how the small child managed to get so close to her and- “Oh, my..” She had almost killed an innocent child. The shock froze her in place. Was she going about this all the wrong way? She looked down at her mud-caked clothing and filthy hands and feet, the small flower a bright contrast even in the dim twilight.

“Hey, lady!” Roselin jumped again but this time only gripped the flower tight in her hand, crushing it accidentally. She turned slowly. “Here! You look hungry. It’s okay, we have a lot of food. My cousins make food all the time for us and there’s always a lot of food left over! More than I can eat, anyway.” The girl sighed dramatically, holding a hand over her tummy. In her other hand, she held a small, crudely-wrapped bundle from which emanated a sweet pleasant aroma that caused Roselin’s mouth to salivate and her stomach to growl. She resisted snatching for it greedily but the little girl held it out towards Roselin. “It’s honey bread! It’s SO yummy! Anyway, I have to go to bed for real this time or I’ll get in trouble again. You should go to bed soon, too. It’s getting dark and there’s scary things in the woods around here.” She points to a small unlit cabin. “You can sleep in there! No one stays there right now.”

Roselin looks at the cabin and almost understands before the child places the bundle in Roselin’s hand and, taking Roselin’s other hand in both of her small hands, pulls her towards the cabin. “Come on! There’s even a bed and a chair and a desk and a lamp and a place where you can put your stuff in and we have a stream where you can take a bath cause you’re kinda stinky but that’s okay. I like your hair.”

 

Roselin slowly gets to her feet and lets herself be led by the hand by this small human? This small human child. Is this a village of small human children? She wonders as she collects her bags, placing the bundle of sweet-smelling food in one of the outer pockets. Humans speak Common. I need to learn Common, she thought to herself.

“Don’t worry about the flower, we have more. They grow everywhere here.”

Roselin looked down at the child then at her hand and wondered how trustworthy these beings were. She’d have to be careful this night. Same as any other night. Just like Mother taught her.


	5. The Last Words

_inconsolable .. … much we can do at this point… … my fault._

_… we are lost._

 

     The girl had not stopped talking for what seemed like an entire hour before a short creature called for her. Roselin did her best to hide in the small room which now contained all her traveling gear and several different types of what seemed to be baked goods. Some old and stale but others more fresh and actually smelled good to eat. Her mouth watered and her stomach growled with hunger but she waited until the young loud child disappeared into her own home before daring to let her guard down enough to eat something.

 

     It had been days since she had anything of substance to eat. Her traveling led her in directions unfamiliar to her or her mother, from what she gathered. Mother’s writings were only getting more worn and tattered with each day that passed. It was distressing but almost a relief in some ways. The responsibility was something she never imagined having to bear. This was knowledge that would have otherwise been lost forever, she reasoned. Knowledge that she did not understand the full value of; perhaps never would. What difference would it make? These thoughts never left Roselin’s mind. Night after night, tenday after tenday.

 

_Daughter, it is up to you.. do not let our Grove’s memory- the Enclave- die out. Survive._

 

     Roselin’s angry tears burned her eyes. It was not fair! As she lay her head down to cry herself to sleep again, she thought on those words. The last words her mother ever said to her. She brought a clenched fist down on the bags next to her but immediately felt remorseful and brought them close. This is all she has left. She closed her eyes and clung tightly to the bag. I should be gone before light, she thought, musing briefly about the human child living with halflings on her own and how generous she had been with food and shelter. Maybe leave a gift of some sort…


End file.
